The medium
groaned gently and awoke.
Well, that had ended it. Laurie scarcely remembered the talking that
followed, the explanations, the apologies, the hardly concealed terror
of the young clergyman. The medium had come out presently, dazed and
confused. They had talked ... and so forth. Then Laurie had come home,
still trying to assimilate the amazing fact, of which he said that it
could make no difference--that he had seen with his own eyes the face
of Amy Nugent four months after her death.
Now here he was in bed on the following morning, trying to assimilate
it once more.
* * * * *
It seemed to him as if sleep had done its work--that the subconscious
intelligence had been able to take the fact in--and that henceforth it
was an established thing in his experience. He was not excited now,
but he was intensely and overwhelmingly interested. There the thing
was. Now what difference did it make?
First, he understood that it made an enormous difference to the value
of the most ordinary things. It really was true--as true as tables and
chairs--that there was a life after this, and that personality
survived. Never again could he doubt that for one instant, even in the
gloomiest mood.
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